Girl Talk
by Oxymoronic Alliteration
Summary: Jeanne makes a stop at a bar on the way home. As she mulls over her relationship with Tony, she strikes up a conversation with another woman with whom she has something in common. Written for the NFA Community Hurt/Comfort Challenge.


The local bar wasn't a normal stop on her way home from the hospital. Sure, she'd passed it time and time again as she drove to and from work, but she'd never had any desire to drop in for a drink. It seemed a bit too seedy for her taste. If she wanted to drink, she had a full stock at her apartment. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was how to appreciate fine liquor.

That night, though, Jeanne found herself pulling into a parking spot just in front of the establishment. She found herself pulling her coat tightly around her body as she stepped out of the car. She found herself entering the bar and found herself sitting atop a stool at the bar. It wasn't until a vodka tonic was placed in front of her that she realized where she'd ended up.

Drinking to alleviate pain and anger wasn't something she did very often. Her mother had done that after the divorce and Jeanne had vowed never to use alcohol as a crutch during rough times. Well, if her parents could break their vows, then so could she break hers.

"Staten Island Ice Tea, please," a voice muttered from beside her.

The bartender cocked his head to the side, processing the drink request. "Ah, do you mean _Long_ Island Ice Tea?"

"Yes…yes, that is what I mean."

Jeanne lifted the glass up to her lips and savored the taste of the cool liquid as it pooled on her tongue and slid down her throat. She rested her elbows atop the bar, the drink held between both hands, and she gently pressed her forehead against the glass.

"Rough day?" asked the person beside her. It was a woman, likely Jeanne's age, with long, wavy brown hair. She wore a sweater and cargo pants, the waist band of which held a badge.

"Rough week," Jeanne said wryly as the woman's order appeared before her.

"Ah," she said as she took the drink gingerly in her hand. She sucked a good portion of the drink through the straw before placing it back down before her. "I suppose alcohol is the best medicine."

Jeanne smiled slightly and shook her head. "As a doctor, I can assure you that isn't true." She paused, taking another sip from her drink. "Of course, it does have its perks."

The woman lifted her glass in Jeanne's direction. "To alcohol."

"I can drink to that," Jeanne said, clinking her own glass against the woman's.

"So, let me guess: Man trouble."

"Is there any other kind?"

"Well, it is the only kind bad enough to grab a drink, but not so bad that one needs to truly drown one's sorrows."

"It's actually kind of…petty, I guess." Jeanne finished the remainder of her drink and placed the empty glass to the side. "It's just this guy I've been seeing for a few months now. When I met him, he was a bit of a player."

"And now he's having trouble committing?"

"Not exactly," Jeanne admitted. "He's been really committed to the relationship. It was almost strange at the beginning, because I thought it would take him a while to get used to the idea of a monogamous relationship. But he just jumped right in, head first, and was very different than most guys I've dated in the past."

"Different how?"

"We didn't have sex until over a month into the relationship, and it wasn't my choice to wait."

The woman raised her eyebrows with an amused smile. "Perhaps he was hoping to pay penance for sins of past relationships?" she suggested.

Jeanne had to laugh. "Well, I think we all have sinned in past relationships. And to be honest, I thought it was a bit endearing. I mean, how often is it the guy who is trying to keep from jumping right into bed?"

"Mm," the woman said with a nod, indicating her agreement. "I have met few men who are willing to be so…celibate."

"It's not that I'm a hornball or anything," Jeanne insisted, lest this woman should get the wrong impression about her. Why she cared what a complete stranger thought was beyond her. "But when a guy _isn't_ trying to get you into bed…" she trailed off, not sure how to best explain the feeling it had given her when he hadn't tried anything by even the fifth date.

The woman, it seemed, knew exactly what Jeanne was trying to say. "You begin wondering what is so wrong with you that he is not immediately sexually aroused," she supplied. Jeanne smiled and nodded. It was a relief to know she wasn't the only woman who felt this way.

"I assume you two have a healthy sexual relationship at this point." Jeanne confirmed this with another nod. "So what is the problem?"

Her smile turned dour and Jeanne found herself looking back down to the bar, where a new drink had appeared before her. "Like I said, it's petty."

"It seems to be important enough to have upset you."

"Well, we've gotten to the point in our relationship where I think there could be something there. I mean, I've been saying 'I love you' for almost a month now. The closest thing I've gotten from him is a quick 'love you, too' after sex."

"He may be unsure of how to properly say it."

"I've given him ways and chances," she insisted. "We had this stupid little race and the prize for whoever won was that person got to say 'I love you' to the other person." She began tracing her finger around the rim of the glass. "He won…and that was it."

"And you fear he does not love you."

Jeanne shook her head. "I know he cares about me. I can see it when he looks at me. I just get the sense that he's holding back. There's something he isn't telling me." She knocked back the drink and set the glass back down. "I know, it's petty and…and bratty to want him to say something he obviously isn't prepared to say. I honestly don't think it would bother me so much if I didn't know that he was afraid of commitment; or, at least, that he had been in the past. I suppose that makes me clingy."

"Yes, it does."

She looked up at the woman sitting beside her. Jeanne hadn't expected such blunt honesty, especially not from someone she had only just met. Perhaps, though, those were the people who were most blunt when you needed them to be. What did they have to lose in telling you the truth?

"However, I do not think that I am one to talk," she admitted. "I have this co-worker. Lately, he's been acting very peculiarly. He goes missing for hours at a time. He now has two cell phones. I, at first, thought it was because he was dealing with a medical problem; now, though, I think he has become involved in a relationship with someone."

"And the two of you have a past relationship?"

"No," the woman said with a sheepish smile. "That is why I say I am not one to talk. This man is immature and insufferable, yet I find the idea of him with another woman, especially one who calls him away from work many hours each day, to be frustrating. See, I am clingy over a man with whom I have never been, while you are clingy over a man you are actually dating. I do believe that my situation says far worse about me."

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me feel slightly better about myself."

A phone in the woman's pocket rang. She pulled it out and answered it with a brief conversation. From what Jeanne heard, it sounded as though the woman was being called away for her job.

"I must go," the woman confirmed. She placed money on the bar and began buttoning-up her coat. "Duty calls."

"I know the feeling," Jeanne told her. "But thanks for the company."

"You are welcome. And if I may offer a suggestion?"

"At this point I'm very open."

"Do not try so hard to push this man into something. If he is afraid of commitment, he may feel cornered by your insistence of him proclaiming his love and then where will you be?"

"Thank you…I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Ziva," the woman said, holding her hand out.

"Jeanne," she replied, placing her own hand inside Ziva's and shaking it.

"Yes, well I wish you the best of luck in your relationship."

Jeanne smiled and nodded to Ziva. "Thank you. I hope things work out well for you, too."

After Ziva had left, Jeanne finished her drink and pulled out her cell phone, dialing the familiar number. She grinned as she heard the familiar voicemail message.

"Hey, it's me…I was hoping I could see you tonight. Call me when you get this message."

* * *

When Ziva arrived on the scene, she wasn't surprised to see Tony engaged in a conversation with someone on his second phone. "Yeah…of course I want to see you…Things are a bit hard right now."

She passed by him and rolled her eyes. She hoped she never was introduced to this new girlfriend. Based on his previous girlfriends, Ziva hadn't a doubt in her mind that she would have absolutely nothing in common with the woman.

* * *

**The End!**


End file.
